A Virgin Auction
by MidKnight2501
Summary: Sara gets auctioned at Rocky Horror. But who is the buyer?


A Virgin Auction...  
  
Sara clutched her helmet tightly as she climbed the stairs to her apartment's doorway. A flash of bright pink caught her eye as she pulled her keys and Sara studied the bill posted on her door, noting the nude woman posed so that nothing showed. Some kind of strip show, she guessed, before looking closer.   
"The Rocky Horror Picture Show..." she read. A memory came to surface at the name, some kind of popular rage in high school. She'd never been into the popular things and her curiosity was piqued. Pulling the bright pink paper down from the door she noticed the many more papers strewn about the block. Sara slipped inside the building and as the elevator lifted to her floor she read the advertisement.   
The show ran at midnight in the Old South Side Theater with 'props' handed out at the show, costumes welcome, and a virgin auction. Despite her nervousness at what it all could mean, it was her night off and she deserved a wild time. Something to shock Jake, Sara thought and grinned.  
  
At midnight Sara stood in front of the theater in her leather outfit, the Witchblade glittering on her delicate wrist. Various others milled around the front of the building, some in 'costume', which looked more to Sara like kink wear. More than a few men were wearing corsets with jeans, and one wore his glittery corset with a miniskirt and gartered fishnets. Turning away with a blush and a wicked smile she spared a moment to wonder exactly what kind of event she'd come to. The only way she'd known he was a man, under all his eye shaddow and woman's clothing, was the washboard chest.   
Determined to have a unique story for the weekend, she didn't hesitate to purchase a ticket and stroll inside the dilapidated theater. More people in costume lingered inside, waiting before the closed doors. Sara wondered if charging some of the women with indecent exposure in public would ruin the night's events. Glancing around she decided that there were no minors present, and that she'd let it slide; though she was starting to wonder weather or not it was a movie or a floor show.  
When the room seemed filled to bursting and the doors had yet to open, a loud snarl of microphone feedback cut through the room like a knife. She turned to see the man from the parking lot standing on top of a speaker. People cheered and hooted.  
"Helloooooo, everyone! Love that costume Shirley!" a girl behind Sara shouted back, and she turned to see the sequented outfit the woman wore. "Well, are we in for a night of decadence, or what? Get your props at the door boys and girls, like normal; sorry, the glitter had to be left out per theater rules." People made sad noises and pouted. "Oh, and try to throw the toast towards the from of the theater; this week the owners found a pile of it behind the back row." There were some incriminating giggles. "I see new faces! And you know what that means..." Catcalls went rampant in the room. "VIRGIN AUCTION! All of you familiar, corrupted people take a seat. All you nice, clean, groovy people, get up on stage!" The man hoped down, landing perfectly on his 5-inch stilettos and throwing open the doors to the theater.  
It was an old one, with a stage, and the drop of white cloth behind it. Against her better judgement Sara climbed the stage, rather than hide in the audience. Her bag of props rested against her thigh lightly through the leather. Two other girls and a man joined her on stage, looking more than a little nervous. After a few more minuets of standing in the spotlight a scuffle was heard in the audience and a couple was pushed on stage, while being chided for hiding in the audience.  
The man in the skirt joined them seconds later, holding his microphone.  
"Well, whats your name doll?" he asked the girl at the other end of the line from Sara.  
"Mi-michele." She answered. Sara absently noted that some of the people had scooted farther down the stage, passing her. Attempting to hide from the auction.  
"And who wants to buy the lovely Michele for the night?" She was a fair looking girl in jeans and a tank top and offers were made. She was 'auctioned' for nine dollars.   
"And you, dear sir?"  
"Nick."  
"And what a dominant answer, Nick. What a fine specimen." The announcer told the crowd. Catcalls went up from the ladies, and one man. Nick was good looking. He sold for fifteen. Another man was sold for twelve, and the girl next to him, who was all but popping out of her shirt, sold for twenty.  
"Grrrr." The announcer purred when he saw Sara. "Boys and girls, what have we here? A truly decadent morsel of female perfection. Who wants to educate her in the ways of Rocky Horror, wants to have her company for the night?" He winked to the audience, his hand sliding around her waist. "Whats your name, sugar?"  
"Sara. Watch out," she told him, removing his far to friendly hand from her hip. "You might break a nail."  
"The kitten has claws. Be prepared to play rough." He warned the audience. They laughed.  
"I'll take her for ten." Someone yelled.  
"I want her! Fifteen!"  
"I offered first, Jean! Saras' mine!"  
"One hundred dollars. I'll give you one hundred for her." A new voice rang out through the fight.  
"One hundred?" the announcer choked out, obviously startled.   
"She's worth it." He answered. A roll of bills hit the stage and the announcer pulled her close to whisper in her ear as he had the others.  
"You belong to him for the night, Sara-with-claws, you'll do as he says for as long as he wants or you'll be made to leave." The announcer told her. A blonde woman came on stage to escort her to her 'owner'.  
Going from the blinding bright of the stage to the pitch of the theater Sara was momentarily blinded. The girl held on to her arm though and led her to a row of seats and pushed her down to one. Sara started to sit, only to find it already occupied.  
"I'm sorry." She said quickly, even as strong arms latched around her waist and held her there.  
"You can sit here." He answered. She recognized his voice as the one who had bought her. Settling in place Sara loped an arm around his shoulders to steady herself. Her eyes still wouldn't focus properly and all she could see of his face was a dark blur; though from the feel under her arm he was wearing some type of knit shirt.  
"Whats your name?" Sara asked.  
"Ian." He answered, with a smile in his voice. Sara went rigid as she placed his voice.  
"Nottingham." She said. She felt him nod. Moving to stand and get away from him, she felt his arms tighten, one hand sliding up her back to press her into him. Lips brushed her ear as he held her immobilized.  
"I'm not here because of Kenneth, Sara. This has nothing to do with the 'blade. It's just my night off and I came to the show to cut loose." He paused. "You think Kenneth Irons would endorse this sort of thing? He wouldn't be caught dead in public anywhere near men in garter belts." His grip loosened slightly so Sara could pull back to see his face. He smiled.  
"How about out of public?" Sara asked. Ian's smiled took on an "Eat shit" look.   
"What do you think?" Ian said. "Is Kenneth Irons, respectable business man, into kink and crossdress? What is his favorite obsession?" his eyebrows went up on the last word, mysteriously. Sara gave way to raucous laughter and people in rows around them cat called.  
"So this is off the record then?" she said, making her point clear to him.   
"Very." Ian responded. "You want Kenneth to know he can 'buy' you somewhere?" Sara elbowed him, and turned to face the movie screen as Ian laughed.   
"So whats your obsession?" she demanded, turning back to face him, her tone echoing his from the previous topic. Ian's laughter stilled under her scrutiny and she felt one of his hands leave her waist and reappear on her knee. It slowly slid upward, tracing a path up her leather clad leg, stopping at the outside of her hip.  
"Leather." Came his rough answer. Sara gulped, startled at the sexuality that seemed to flow off the assassin. Ian dismissed the mood a moment later, directing her to the screen as the movie started.  
Out of tune and synch voices filled the room, singing along with the blood red lips on screen. Ian joined in, his singing voice better than she would have guessed. Not knowing the words, Sara sat back to watch and enjoy the show. As characters on screen spoke, the audience made responses. Every time the young Susan Sarandon appeared in close up obscenities were yelled pertaining to her being a whore. Her character's fiancée received like treatment in that he was often encouraged to make passes at the other male characters. Sara laughed and whistled, enjoying it far more than she'd hoped to. Ian pushed props into her hands at appropriate moments so she could throw toast at the screen and whir noisemakers along with the people on screen.  
Ian shifted in his seat, Sara's slight weight numbing his legs and he released her reluctantly, propping his feet on the seat and stretching out along it. Without his guidance she sat beside him, resting against him. At the touch of her warm leather Ian let his eyes roll shut as images filled his mind. These were aided by some of the more colorful tails of the Witchblade, in which the weapon could transform into bonds to hold a lover while the wielder had her way with him. Feeling a stir in his groin and knowing it would get no relief or attention from Sara he mentally tried to think it away. Though he did have the rights to order her around tonight, he wouldn't. It was below him.  
"Here, get ready to throw the bag of feathers in the air, when the floor show starts." He whispered, handing it to her. Sara grinned, giggling, as she took it. Feathers flew everywhere moments later, decorating both of them. Laughing himself, Ian plucked a few from her silky hair. He let his fingers linger a moment, letting it wind in his hand, before letting go. Sara turned, and he thought he was in trouble for touching her. Her own hands went out to his hair and pulled a large feather free, also loosening the tie that held it and it fell into his face.  
Sara's face changed from wild happiness to dedicated studiousness as she surveyed the mane of dark hair. Against her will a hand snaked out to curl a wave of his hair around her finger and he watched her with dark eyes.  
Lights burst on, ending the odd moment and people cheered, cat calling at the end of the movie. Ian sat up and Sara stood to make room for him in the isle.  
"Dennys!" someone crowed, a cry that was echoed around the room as people departed. Ian walked silently beside her as they left the theater.  
In the cool night air Sara and Ian stood in silence. She thought to herself, If only he didn't work for Kenneth Irons and I wasn't the Witchblade. Ian thought much the same thing and wanted to kiss her.  
"I had a good time, Ian." Sara said quietly, but sincerely.  
"I hope so, I did my best to make it fun." He answered. "I had fun with you Sara. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"  
She blushed and nodded. Then, impulsively, she hugged him before turning to her motorcycle.  
The grin was still on Ian's face when he got home.  
  
  



End file.
